


your presence still lingers here

by cupsofstardust



Category: Glee
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-04 06:20:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21192977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupsofstardust/pseuds/cupsofstardust
Summary: He thinks his heart forgot how to beat. Just like his lungs forgot how to breathe. Like his mind forgot how to think.Like he forgot how toforget.





	your presence still lingers here

**Author's Note:**

> I am writing for Glee in 2019, yes. I am ashamed, yes. In my defense, I love Kurt very much.

He wakes up cold. 

He blinks blearily, his gaze drifting to the open window; he must've forgotten to close it. He thinks it's strange, because it's July and his fingers are numb. Maybe it's just all in his head.

Or maybe his heart forgot how to beat. Just like his lungs forgot how to breathe. Like his mind forgot how to think. 

Like he forgot how to _forget._

A glance at the clock brings him to a dull realization. He's been awake for five minutes, and his eyes are still dry.

And then he remembers, because of course he does, he has to, and that familiar sting returns. He doesn't try to blink it away, this time. Those few moments had been a reprieve, but the ache in his chest doesn’t let up.

If anything, he almost feels worse, that for a second he'd forgotten. How could he _forget?_ Is he that heartless? It hasn't been very long, he shouldn't be moving on already. 

Guilt, icy and harsh, winds itself around his heart, slithers up his throat. It's made a home for itself in his chest this past month. The weight of it is the only comforting feeling it brings. It distracts from everything else.

The sound of his alarm going off finally reaches him, and it's so loud he wonders how he hadn't heard it immediately.

His fingers twitch towards it, but that's the only effort he can make to turn it off. His arm is too heavy to lift.

He has a class today. He can't miss it. He knows he can’t. There are only a few weeks until the exam.

But he doesn't move.

He thinks. And thinks and thinks and _thinks._

He thinks of Finn. He _remembers_ Finn.

He wants to remember the good parts, but try as he might his brain keeps supplying the bad, as if to remind him _Hey, he wasn't as great as you'd like to think._

People say that it's wrong to speak ill of the dead, but is it wrong to _think_ ill of the dead? 

...Dead, huh? 

He's _dead._

He squeezes his eyes shut, hot tears finally slipping down his cheeks and past his ears. 

It's hard to realize and realize and _realize again_ that he'll never see Finn again. He'll never walk with him back to his car after school, never sing with him in Glee club—not that he did that much anyway, their voices weren't a very good match. Plus, Finn was always partial to classic rock while Kurt much prefers peppy show tunes, and last he checked those two genres don't really mesh all that well.

A mash-up of _I Dreamed a Dream_ and _Highway to Hell_ would have ruined music for the rest of the Glee club. They dodged a bullet.

Now, he wishes they’d sang more.

Thinking of him in the past tense is a new and terrible development, and he'd misjudged just how much it would hurt. He has to teach himself, like a teacher rapping a student's knuckles with a ruler whenever he slips up. He can’t pretend; it’ll make it worse. He knows. He's gone through this before, when his mother passed, over ten years ago. He didn’t think he’d ever forget how grueling the grieving process is, but somehow he has. 

Or maybe this is different. Maybe this is harder, in a way.

At least with his mother, they'd known. She was sick for a while before she… well.

Finn was young. He had so much ahead of him.

Kurt remembers the timeline of his mother's deterioration well enough, and the emotions if he tries. As horrible as it sounds, he's detached from that trauma, even if he can never forget it. He remembers it mostly in facts now, because if he didn’t it’d tear him apart. Moving on is healthy. He has to remember that.

The night before she died still haunts him, clings to him like a shadow. His dad was at the hospital and he left Kurt with a babysitter because he was _too young._ He was.

He remembers tucking himself into bed at seven-thirty, even though his bedtime was nine, and he layed in his dark room and stared at the ceiling and _begged_ God to let her live. 

He told God if He let her live, if He got her through this, he'd be more faithful in his belief; he'd never, _ever_ get mad at her again, he _promised;_ he'd stop thinking of boys that way, because it wasn’t right, and all the other boys talked about girls so he would, too.

If God let her live, he'd muster up the will to believe in an all-powerful being, despite all evidence to the contrary.

Turns out God is a bad listener.

He didn't get a chance to do that this time, he didn’t get a chance to beg and plead and _hope,_ and he can't decide which is worse. 

The knowing, or the _not._

Kurt thinks the grieving process is a bunch of bullshit, really, because he's _mad_ at Finn, to the point that he almost _resents_ him for dying.

If Finn hadn't gone to college, maybe he'd be alive right now.

If Finn hadn't joined the Army, maybe he'd be alive right now. 

If Finn hadn't… If Finn hadn't _what?_ What else can he blame? What else could Finn have done better, what else _should_ Finn have done better?

If Rachel hadn't broken up with Finn, maybe he'd be alive right now.

If Rachel hadn't broken up with Finn, maybe he'd be living with them right now, in this studio apartment that has gone from cramped to far too big in the matter of a few days.

If Rachel hadn't broken up with Finn…

But no, that feels far too much like real anger bubbling in his chest, and the last thing that the fragile balance in which he hangs needs is a fight based on _what ifs,_ even if those _what ifs_ are all he can focus on.

His eyes drift to the clock, and once again he registers the sound of his alarm, insistent and piercing.

His mother wasn’t alone. Dad was there.

He really should get up.

_Was Finn alone? Was anyone there for him?_

He doesn’t move.

So what if he misses class? His brother's death should be a good enough excuse, right?

_Did Finn die alone?_

He's late anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from My Immortal by Evanescence.
> 
> This is loosely based on one of my own experiences. I'll try to write something a little lighter next time, I just had to get this out of my system.
> 
> Comments and kudos are nice. Thank you <3


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